


Kakawa

by OftenWrongSoong



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Beta'd by three actual people, Chocolate, Cute, Humor, Interlude, M/M, Mayan Mythology - Freeform, Mesoamerica, Plumed Serpent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OftenWrongSoong/pseuds/OftenWrongSoong
Summary: I was asked to write something fluffy, and I am not good at that. So here's something silly. Featuring bloody great snakes, temples, a very out-of-place angel, and chocolate.Written for Marleenam as part of the Good Omens Holiday Swap.Beta'd byimnotokaywiththerunningandpearwaldorf
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	Kakawa

Mexico, 738 AD

Teotihuacan bustled with humanity. Everywhere Aziraphale turned, people were busying themselves with the important work of living their frantic little lives. Street vendors were hawking their wares, women hurried past with baskets and bundles. Men were haggling and dealing, children ran and played and generally got underfoot. It was a thriving metropolis.

Aziraphale dodged aside as a man dragged a cart laden with pottery goods almost over his foot, and tried to ignore the lingering stares he received.

In all of his previous travels, he had been relatively unremarkable. Partially due to a certain amount of Celestial camouflage, but mostly to do with the fact that his corporation was, in and of itself, nothing special. Just a middle aged man, a bit soft around the middle, with gentle eyes and a kind smile.

What he had failed to take into account was that no matter where in the world he had been before, the native populace had already encountered... well, those of a paler disposition.

He dealt with the curious glances the same way he dealt with everything else; he smiled and greeted people politely and pretended not to notice that anything was at all out of the ordinary.

Reaching a junction, he asked a passer-by for directions and was told to head to the southern end of the Avenue of the Dead. He smiled politely, grimaced inwardly, and bade them a good day.

It was, Aziraphale was forced to admit, an impressive building.

An immense six-stepped pyramid rose up before him, jutting out of the plains defiantly. Its sides were richly decorated, painted in garish hues and inlaid with precious stone and shell.

The dominant architectural features were the many serpent heads, glaring balefully out from the temple walls, mouths full of fangs, crowned with feathered crests.

_A bit on the nose_ he thought, pursing his lips primly. He had heard that Crawly - _Crowley_ was making a bit of a stir over here, but really, this was taking the biscuit.

As he approached he saw two guards, decked out in their ceremonial finery, flanking an entrance that seemed to lead into the temple. At the sight of him, one guard nudged the other and gestured with his spear, and the two of them drew themselves up and glared as he drew close. Aziraphale held his hands up in the universally accepted gesture of submission. In response, they leveled their spears at his chest.

"Ah, right. Um... hello!" Aziraphale gave the two warriors his best winning smile. They were visibly unimpressed. "Well, um, you see, I was rather hoping you could take me to your, ah, leader?"

"Then you are in the wrong place, stranger," One of the guards sneered. "The royal residences are back the way you came."

"Ah, yes, of course. But I was hoping I might gain an audience with..." Aziraphale pointed hesitantly at one of the enormous carved serpent heads flanking the entrance.

"Absolutely not," The other warrior shook his head dismissively.

"Oh, but I've come _such_ a long way, and..."

"The answer is no."

Aziraphale's gaze flicked from one impassive face to the other, and then he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine," He huffed with a flick of his wrist and watched as the two guards' stern expressions smoothed into blank acceptance.

"My name is Aziraphale, and I am granted an audience with, um..." _Oh for heaven's sake, what was Crowley calling himself here?_ "With the... the serpent... um, and-and I'm really _terribly_ important, so you'll just go ahead and let me in now, thank you _very_ much."

He flicked his wrist again, snapped his fingers, and the warriors looked again at the strange pale man standing before them, this time with reverence.

The tunnel was dimly lit with sputtering torches that flared and flickered as Aziraphale walked behind the two warriors leading him deeper under the temple pyramid. Spaced along the walls of the tunnel were alcoves, each one carefully filled with offerings that glimmered with gold and jewels in the torchlight.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, the guards stood aside to allow Aziraphale to enter the chamber beyond, and he stood for a moment in total wonder.

The walls were encrusted with shimmering minerals, carefully placed fragments of hematite and pyrite arching overhead and across the ceiling in imitation of the night sky. Four statues guarded the room, one in each corner, eyes fixed to the stars that shone here, deep underground.

In the center of the room stood a pedestal, upon which was a replica of the world above in miniature, with pools of mercury picking out lakes in the mountainous landscape.

"Oh, how _extraordinary,"_ Aziraphale breathed, and dared to take a step into the room.

With warrior swiftness, one of the guards snapped his arm out to restrain the pale man. When Aziraphale looked at him questioningly the man simply shook his head, eyes wide, and gestured to the floor.

"Goodness, how beautiful!" Aziraphale's voice was a tad louder than he had intended, but he was struck by the incredible craftsmanship of the work laid out before him. The black stone floor was carved in rounded hills, spiraling around the central pedestal, and looking like an immense serpent coiled around its hoard. It was even _scaled_ , the dark glossy material seeming to move in the wavering torchlight. Aziraphale wondered momentarily where the head was, and why it wasn't in a more prominent position, before he realized that the floor didn't _seem_ to be moving.

It _was_ moving.

The pools of mercury on the map shivered and rippled as the sound of scales on stone filled the chamber, and behind the pedestal the head of the plumed serpent rose majestically, and the guards cried out their terror and awe.

Its head was as long as Aziraphale's arm, wide and blunt-nosed, its lips carmine red and pulled back over rows of gleaming teeth. Enormous golden eyes gleamed in the firelight, slitted pupils narrowed as the monstrous creature beheld the intruders. Around its neck a ruff of feathers shivered and rattled, green and blue and red, rising into a crest atop the serpentine head. A long tongue flickered out to taste the air.

"Who _dares_ disturb the slumber of..." The serpent's golden eyes focused on the blonde. "Oh, it's you."

"Yes, me again!" Aziraphale replied cheerfully. "Heard there was something going on over here, but this is truly remarkable! I had a look around the city before I came here, and I really am _very_ impressed. Everything seems so peaceful and ordered, it's really rather lovely."

"Lovely?" The serpent's eyes narrowed. _"Lovely?"_ It heaved forwards across the room, lunging towards Aziraphale threateningly. "These people are fighters, survivors _,_ a fierce race! Over two hundred warriors are buried beneath this temple, sacrificed to give it strength, their very blood in the mortar, and you dare to use the word _lovely?_ My guards should..."

"Oh for goodness' sake, that's quite enough." Aziraphale reached out and tapped the snake on its nose sharply, and it recoiled in surprise. "Stop posturing and change, I can't take you seriously looking like that."

"Wh-y-nh-" The serpent's eyes whirled in astonishment before it sighed heavily. "Gnh, _fine._ "

Aziraphale folded his arms and watched as the enormous snake shrank and morphed, the feathers separating into strands of auburn hair, scales melting into smooth dark skin and black cotton armor, decorated in ceremonial style. The blazing golden eyes remained, albeit smaller, fixed on him and narrowed in annoyance.

"There, happy now?" Crowley scowled.

"Much better, thank you," Aziraphale beamed at him.

One of the guards fainted. The other looked at the two beings in horror, and fled.

"There, _now_ look what you've done!" Crowley waved his hand. "Bloody terrified my own guards!"

"Well, whose fault is that?" Aziraphale replied primly. "As if I could have a proper conversation with you as a giant snake."

"You could've," Crowley grumbled, folding his arms.

"Oh, stop pouting and let's go outside. It's much warmer out there."

The view from the top of the temple pyramid was breathtaking. Or perhaps it was just the walk up the steps. Either way, Aziraphale found himself gazing down at the city below and trying to force the air to keep moving in and out of his lungs.

"Oh Crowley, this truly is wonderful."

"Damn sight better than Wessex," Crowley agreed, swirling his cloak from his shoulders and spreading it onto the platform for them to sit on.

"Oh yes, and a lot less damp." Aziraphale seated himself on the cloak carefully. "I can see why you'd prefer this climate."

"Mmm," Crowley's brow furrowed for a moment, his eyes unfocused.

"Everything all right?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, fine." Crowley rested back on his elbows. "So, what's going on with your lot?"

"Oh, well, quite a lot. Um..." Aziraphale thought for a moment. "Gosh, well, there was a terrible plague."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Hit the Eastern Roman Empire rather hard. Dreadful business. Don't suppose you know anything about who's responsible?"

Crowley grimaced. "Not me, that's for sure. No style, plagues. Messy things. Prefer something with a bit more finesse myself."

"Yes, so I see," Aziraphale nodded down towards the city. "Convincing an entire civilization to worship you, for example?"

"Not my fault!" Crowley propped himself up on one arm. "I was just wondering what they were up to over here, popped over to nose around a bit, ended up taking a nap under a tree with all these weird fruity-things hanging off it. Seemed only natural to be a bloody great snake, what with the climate and all. Next thing I know there's a thump on the noggin, and it's only blimmin' Kukulkan, sayin', seing as I was in the area, could I do him a favor? Next thing I know there's a bloody great temple, and offerings... "

"Kukulkan?" Aziraphale frowned as he tried the unfamiliar language. Crowley shrugged.

"He's... kinda local, um, what you might call freelance. This is his turf, so it seemed only fair that we come to an arrangement. He's off doing whatever, I'm just keeping an eye on things in exchange for any wayward souls. Plus perks, of course. The food, the climate, the adoration of the masses..."

"I don't suppose you thought, at any point, about telling them the truth?" Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at the demon, who smirked at him.

"Where's the fun in that? Kukulkan has business further south, I'm covering for him all right. And the humans here do most of the work themselves. All that brilliant stuff in the temple? All them, buggered if I know how they did most of it. 'Sides, it's an all right gig. Lots of sun, plenty of booze..."

"The occasional human sacrifice."

"The occasional hum... No!" Crowley sat up and glared at Aziraphale indignantly. "No-no-no, you don't get to pin that one on me, that's _nothing_ to do with me, the humans came up with that one!"

"So when you said there were bodies under the temple...?"

"Well _I_ didn't bloody put them there," Crowley grumbled. "For what it's worth I told them to knock it off."

"Well, good for you."

"And the organization here was rubbish!" Crowley waved his arm to indicate the city. "Didn't know a thing about cultivation, or sewerage! Kukulkan briefed me before I started, had a plan for the whole thing, so I just followed it through. Clever chap, much like myself," Crowley preened for a moment, before bristling. "And then the first decent nap I get is interrupted by a nosy angel."

"Well, it's nice to see you too." Aziraphale snipped.

"Yeah, yeah. You too," Crowley mumbled.

As they gazed out over the city, Aziraphale became aware of a human slowly ascending the steps to the pyramid and clutching a large clay cup.

"I say, there's someone coming up here."

"About bloody time." Crowley stretched luxuriously and gave himself a shake, and a shimmer of black scales crept over his cheeks and forehead. His hair shivered up into a crest of crimson feathers, held back with a leather band studded with turquoise and gold.

The effect was arresting. Aziraphale felt a shiver of his own.

"What?" Crowley became aware that he was being scrutinized, and the crest of feathers raised slightly with a dry rustle.

"Hm? Oh! Um, nothing! Just... well, it's very... you look, uh..."

"What?" Crowley rolled his shoulders and was suddenly wearing a collar of beaten gold. Aziraphale gulped.

"Well, it's... you..." He cleared his throat. "Suits you." He mumbled.

"Thanksss," Crowley grinned to show off his fangs. Aziraphale found it strangely endearing.

_I wonder if he has a forked tongue as well? Oh dear, best not to think about that sort of thing._

The human reached the platform and advanced on the seated pair with a slow reverence bordering on outright terror, holding the cup out in both hands before him. Aziraphale recognised him as one of the guards.

"What's all this?"

"Oh, I asked him to bring us a little something. You'll want to try this, trussst me." Crowley rose to his feet with languid grace and Aziraphale followed.

"Was that what all the squinting and grimacing was about earlier? You're putting orders into their _heads?_ "

"Not..." Crowley scowled. "It's just, you know, like... ventriloquism, throwing your voice, you know."

"Yes, except it's _in their heads!_ "

"Look, it's no big deal, they're used to it! And I don't do it to _all_ of them! And it's not like they can't say no, I mean, free will and all that."

Aziraphale pursed his lips but said nothing, and Crowley rolled his eyes.

"My lord." The man held the cup out, his eyes averted, arms shaking.

"Yes, yes, all right." Crowley took the offered vessel. "Enough cowering, bugger off."

The man fled down the steps.

"Well, I hope all the fuss is worth it," Aziraphale murmured, watching the man's rapidly retreating back.

"Oh, you wait," Crowley lifted the cup to his lips and drank. "Mmm. You'll like this. I reckon it's gonna be big, once the rest of the world finds out about it." He held the cup out to the angel. "Go on."

Aziraphale regarded him warily for a moment, before taking the cup and lifting it to his lips.

Crowley watched avidly as the angel's pale throat bobbed.

When Aziraphale lowered the cup his eyes were wide.

"'S good, innit?" Crowley grinned. "They call it xocolatl. The humans make it out of the seeds in those weird fruity things I slept under. Course you can make other stuff with them too, but I think this is the big one."

"Oh my God," Aziraphale mumbled indistinctly, before burying his face in the cup.

They shared the cup back and forth, sitting on the cloak and watching the sun lowering and the shadows lengthening.

Aziraphale darted a glance at the demon, who was reclining back on his elbows, long legs flung out in front of him. He was still sporting a smattering of iridescent black scales across his cheeks, and the effect was... fetching.

He sipped the xocolatl thoughtfully. Would he get into trouble for this? Probably Crowley was right, no-one upstairs or down would care much, as long as things got done. But it was... well, _unheard_ of. He looked askance at the demon again.

_Still, it does mean you'll see him more often. And it has been terribly lonely. Perhaps he's lonely too, maybe that's why he suggested it._

Rome was a very long way away, but Aziraphale vividly recalled the splendid meal they had shared, the easy companionship. After their little spat in Wessex, perhaps it was time to mend some bridges.

He cleared his throat.

"You know Crowley, I... I've been thinking." Aziraphale passed the cup back to the demon.

"Have you now?" Crowley took a swig.

"About the, uh, _suggestion_ you made. About us, well, canceling each other out."

"Oh?" Crowley kept his tone carefully neutral, his eyes fixed on the city below where torches were being lit to fend off the oncoming night.

"Well, I think, perhaps, it's something that requires further discussion. I mean, staying out of each other's way is one thing, but actively _involving_ ourselves in each other's business is, well..."

"But you think it's worth discussing?" Crowley passed him the cup, one eyebrow raised.

"Discussing, yes. I'm not necessarily going to _agree._ " Aziraphale sipped the xocolatl, savoring it.

"Fine, fine, no pressure." Crowley grinned, before flowing to his feet and stretching with a sigh. "Come on angel, let's go into town."

"Why? Oh, it's nearly gone, isn't it?" Aziraphale looked sadly down at the dregs of the spicy drink. "I'm rather afraid I had the lion's share of that."

"No bother, I can have it whenever. Besides, it's not alcoholic, whereas there's a place down there where I can get us something a bit more... fun."

"Fun?" Aziraphale shoved himself up with a groan and swept up the cloak, shaking it to rid it of dust.

"Yeah, 's called pulque."

"And it's good, is it?" Aziraphale held out the cloak and Crowley took it with a quirk of his lips.

"Angel, these people are nothing if not resourceful. It's basically beer, but made out of cactus, and it's bloody fantastic. Oh, and remind me to get you an avocado. Come on."

"Looking like that?" Aziraphale ran his gaze over the demon. "Striking though the look is, perhaps it's not the most appropriate appearance for a trip to the local tavern."

"Hm? Oh, right, hang on." Crowley snapped, and his crimson feathers melted into hair, his skin smoothed, and his headdress projected down over his face, gold eyes obscured with thin lenses of obsidian.

"Show off." Aziraphale raked his gaze approvingly over the demon's attire.

"Come on then, let's go." Crowley flashed a grin at the angel. "So, the previous look was 'striking', eh?"

"Oh, shut up."

It's 2020. The apocalypse has been well and truly averted, and an angel and a demon are perusing the Mesoamerican antiquities in the British Museum.

"Hey, angel," Crowley calls, ignoring the stares it garners him from the humans around him.

"Ssh!" Aziraphale putters over to him. "Don't _shout_ dear, we're in a museum!"

"So? 'S not like it's a library."

"It's very _much_ like a library, and you shouted at me there too, in case you forgot."

"Oh yeah," Crowley shrugs. "Well then, why break the habit? Anyway, look at this."

Aziraphale peers through the glass at the stone carving and reads the plate.

"'A Mayan plaque depicting a meeting between the god Kukulkan and another being, possibly of celestial origin. The other being is yet to be identified, but the glyph translates to 'Atziwapelu'. No other reference to this deity have yet been discovered'."

Aziraphale straightens and tugs on his waistcoat thoughtfully. "Well, I daresay we made something of an impression."

"Too bloody right. Although I prefer Quetzalcoatl myself. Got a nice ring to it."

"Oh, I remember that time," Aziraphale sighs wistfully. "You looked so beautiful in your ceremonial outfit."

"Yeah?" Crowley preens. "Bit different to what they were wearing back in Europe."

"Oh rather. Quite a lot more skin on show, at any rate." Aziraphale flashes him a shy smile. "I was quite taken with you."

"No kidding?" Crowley grins. "Bet the chocolate had something to do with that."

"Oh, the _chocolate,_ " Aziraphale breathes in quiet reverence.

"Told you it was gonna be big. Even _I_ liked the stuff."

"Do you know, I've never forgotten how it tasted?" Aziraphale's eyes are misty. "Spicy, hot, bitter, with that hint of sweetness." He looks at Crowley slyly, before patting him on the arm. "Rather reminds me of you, now I come to think of it." He flashes the demon a last lingering glance before turning away.

"Mm, yeah. Hot... Hey, hey!" Crowley scowls at Aziraphale's back. "I am _not_ sweet!"

"Of course not, dear. You know, I recall reading somewhere that the sharing of a bowl of xocolatl was a part of the sacred marriage rites of the Maya."

"Oh?" Crowley says, with an innocent quirk of an eyebrow. "Can't say I remember. All those fussy human rituals, can't be expected to keep track of them all."

Aziraphale turns around to gather the demon's hands in his own.

"For what it's worth, the answer is yes."

"Of course it's bloody 'yes' you muppet, we've been married a year and a half!" Crowley shakes his head despairingly, but he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips.

"And it will continue to be 'yes', as many times as you ask," Aziraphale squeezes Crowley's hands briefly. "Now, all that talk of chocolate has made me peckish. What say we retire to the cafe?"

**Author's Note:**

> The temple described is the Temple of the Plumed Serpent, located just outside Mexico City. Everything I've detailed is actually there, including hundreds of clay balls meticulously coated in pyrite. No-one knows why.
> 
> I felt the story was a little short, so I included the illustration. The glyph above the bowl is Kakawa, which means 'bitter water'. It's where we get the word cocoa. The glyph to the extreme right reads Atziwapelu, which is as close as I could get using the pictograms that have so far been translated.


End file.
